


Magdalena

by heggsys



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 1966, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mexico GP, So yeah, its more just about brian and bruce, this isnt rlly a bruce/jack thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heggsys/pseuds/heggsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A change of perspective can sometimes come in the oddest ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magdalena

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I wanted to write a Bruce thing and this for some reason is it . . . inspiration can come in the oddest ways.

After being pushed lightly to the side, Bruce retreated from the pub and headed outside. At that point it was probably the fifth time that he had been pushed by some drunk driver and it was starting to annoy him, considering he was one of the only sober people left in that pub. It wasn’t that he was a teetotaler, he enjoyed drinking on occasions but tonight he just wasn’t feeling it.

Normally if Bruce didn't drink Jack didn't either, but not tonight, and Bruce was honestly okay with that. Jack should be able to celebrate his third championship, especially since he won it driving for his own team, which was a huge moment in Formula One. No one else had accomplished such a feat, and if Jack wanted to get hammered, then by God let him.

He was happy for Jack, he was proud of him, and he would have joined in the celebrations if something didn’t feel . . . off.

He opened the back door and quietly closed it behind him with a sigh. Finally, he had gained some peace and quiet. He sat down on the steps and leaned back against the door. It felt like he hadn’t gotten any silence in ages, not with the party going on inside and the busy race weekend they had.

Not to mention that hours before the race and even afterwards, this Frankenheimer fellow was trying to shoot scenes for his movie. They were at every race, and were always taking up track time so the actors could shoot their scenes. It was an annoyance more than anything else, and he hoped he would have no part of it. Unlike Jackie, who had to do all the driving for one of the actors.

But then he got reminded that he had signed a contract the year before, saying he would be in the film if it was needed. Sadly, he was needed, and his acting was probably horrendous, but he got the job done.

Besides the fact that Jack had won the championship, he was happy that he no longer had to see any of the actor’s faces again . . .

He felt the door move behind him, and he leaned forward just enough so that whoever was trying to get out could leave. Out stumbled two of the actors from the movie, and Bruce sighed, irritated. Apparently there are no such things as small blessings.

“Evening,” the American actor hiccuped, and Bruce tried to remember his name, but he couldn’t for the life of him. His first name was James, he was sure of that, but the last name . . .

“Evening,” was all Bruce replied and hoped that they could leave it at that, so he could go back to his solitude.

“Have you seen Brian?” the other one asked, and Bruce immediately recognized him as Antonio Sabáto. Bruce remembered Bandini talking about him, but not much else. “You know him, you’re a driver. He was with us when we filmed. Jackie Stewart filled in for him.”

“I haven’t seen him,” Bruce responded, even though he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that was true. He frowned, trying to remember if he saw him before he walked out. He quickly came to the conclusion that he hadn’t seen him since they walked in shortly after the drivers started occupying the bar. “Sorry.”

Antonio shrugged, then looked at James. “He’ll show up eventually. G’night,” he slurred before they stumbled off together.

Hopefully they took a taxi.

Bruce leaned back against the door again, and closed his eyes. He got several minutes of silence, before he heard what seemed to be muffled sobbing. Cracking an eye open, he looked around to see if anyone had walked into the alleyway. He didn’t see anyone, and the crying briefly stopped.

He closed his eyes again. Seconds later, the crying started again. He opened both his eyes this time, and stood up. He checked the front part of the alley for anyone, and then went to check the back.

He looked past a dumpster and spotted a figure curled up beside it with their forehead pressed against their knees. A quick thought flashed through his mind: _I’m going to get mugged._

Instead of walking away out of the fear of being mugged, he slowly approached the figure, and kneeled before them, then quietly asked, “Are you okay?”

The figure’s head jerked up, and he stared at Bruce with wide eyes. Bruce found himself face to face with the man that Antonio had mentioned earlier, and for a split second he forgot his name, but then he remembered it. Brian was slowly pressing himself back against the wall, and he was trembling like a leaf.

Bruce backed a way a little bit to give him space, but Brian didn’t stop from trying to flatten himself against the wall. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Bruce said, but then cursed himself because Brian didn’t know that Bruce wasn’t going to hurt him, and why the hell would he believe him either? “Who did this to you? What happened?” he asked, trying to show him that he cared.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brian replied quickly, “none of it matters.”

“Of course it does,” Bruce said with a frown, “You’re clearly injured, you need medical help—”

“No I don’t!” Brian shouted at him, but as soon as the words flew out of his mouth he was back against the wall again and staring at Bruce with the most terrified eyes he’s ever seen. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bruce said quickly, and studied Brian, just trying to figure out what the hell happened. He needed to go to a hospital, that much was obvious, but he was very apprehensive about it and he didn’t know why—oh.

It was then Bruce noticed Brian’s trousers were around the middle of his thighs, and a white liquid was starting to dry along his exposed thighs. Bruce looked up at Brian’s face to see that the same liquid was along his lips, and some of it coated his hair.

“Don’t turn me in,” Brian begged, and his hands went out to clutch Bruce’s shirt, as if he was suddenly scared that he was going to leave. “I didn’t want it, I don’t fancy men.”

“I’m . . .” Bruce drew off, and then shook his head, “it doesn’t matter to me if you fancy men or not, and it certainly is obvious that you didn’t want this. Wait here, I’m going to go get some towels so you can clean yourself up, and I’ll help you back to your hotel room.”

Brian’s hands slipped from Bruce’s shirt. Bruce slowly got up and went to go inside when he felt a hand tightly wrap around his wrist. “I don’t have a room,” Brian informed him, his tone low. “I . . . I wasn’t planning on staying in Mexico another night.”

“That’s fine; I’ll take you back to my room. You can stay there and then catch a plane tomorrow,” Bruce said with a wave of his hand. Brian let go of his wrist, but still looked like he was going to bolt. “Please stay here, I swear I’ll be back very quickly.”

Brian shuffled his feet, but nodded anyways. Bruce headed back into the pub and went to the bartender, where he tried to ask for some towels in shitty Spanish. When it was clear that it wasn’t getting across to the tender, Bruce flagged down Pedro and asked him if he could translate for him.

Pedro gave a slow nod, and then translated for Bruce. The tender quickly came back with some towels, and Bruce thanked both of them before hurrying back outside. If it took him any longer, he feared that Brian would think that he had called the police. Brian would have bolted, and Bruce didn’t know what he would do then.

Luckily he was still there, and Bruce relaxed a little. He handed the towels over to Brian. “Here,” he said, “clean yourself up. Once we get back to the hotel you can take a shower, but for now we just need to get you across town without anyone getting suspicious.”

Brian nodded, and slowly wiped off his face then put the towel between his legs. He allowed Bruce to try to get the cum out of his hair, and Bruce tried to be gentle. Bruce got most of it out, and he told Brian that the rest would just have to wait.

Brian didn’t say anything.

Bruce backed away so that Brian could stand up and pull his pants up. Brian winced as he did so, and as he adjusted the buckles Bruce tossed the towels in the trash.

“I’ll go flag down a cab,” Bruce said before walking to the alley entrance. Brian followed a couple of seconds later.

\---

Before they left, Bruce ran back inside to tell Jack that he was going back to the hotel room. Jack had tried to land a kiss on Bruce’s cheek, but he hastily dodged it and just patted Jack on the shoulder, then left.

Once they got back to the hotel room, Bruce immediately guided Brian to the bathroom and handed him a pair of Bruce’s pajamas. “You can use them for the night,” he told Brian, who only nodded gratefully before heading inside.

Bruce paced nervously as he waited for Brian to get done. He could only wonder how the hell this would happen, why it would happen. Being attracted to men wasn’t really something you spoke about, and raping a man wasn’t talked about either. Bruce thought that it couldn’t even happen, that no man would dare too. But it had happened, and he didn’t know what to do.

He needed to check if Brian was okay, but he didn’t know what to exactly look for. He was still contemplating this dilemma when Brian exited the bathroom.

Bruce looked up to see him standing in the doorway with his hair pressed against his forehead, and his skin red from being rubbed raw. “Thank you,” was all Brian said.

Bruce couldn’t even offer a response, he just nodded dumbly. He sat down on the couch and Brian sat down at the other end.

This was the first time Bruce actually got to look at him. Despite the fact that they shared a scene together in Frankenheimer’s movie, Bruce never really took the time to look at him, or even speak to him.

He looked tired and defeated. His eyes still held that terrified look, but it was much controlled now. “Why did you help me?” Brian asked, pulling Bruce from his thoughts. “We don’t know each other, and not to mention what happened is considered a crime, you should have turned me in.”

“I’m a decent person, that’s why. Not to mention that I would hope if someone found me like that they would help me too,” Bruce replied, even though they both knew that no one would help him in that situation.

“But . . .” Brian stopped, and looked at him like he was insane.

Bruce didn’t offer anything else and neither did Brian. Bruce eventually turned on the TV just for some background noise, and Brian seemed comforted by it even though neither of them understood it.

Brian started to doze off, and he was almost successfully asleep when the door opened and Jack stumbled in. Brian’s head shot up, and he looked towards the door with wide eyes. He watched as Jack stumbled over to Bruce and kissed him on the cheek, mumbling, “Hello baby,” before he went over to his bag so he could get changed.

Brian watched the whole interaction, and it slowly dawned on him why Bruce helped him. “You fancy men,” Brian said, eyes wide, “that’s why you helped me.”

Bruce nodded.

Brian sat there quietly, his arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes softened, and the fear was suddenly gone. “I do too,” he whispered, and he was so tired that Bruce figured that he didn’t even realize what he was admitting. Bruce got up from the couch and ushered Jack into the bathroom in an attempt to not make him uncomfortable. Brian watched him the whole time. “How long have you two been together?”

Bruce pulled a pillow and a blanket off of the bed, then strolled over to the couch. He handed them to Brian. “Hm . . . since 1958 maybe? I don’t remember very well. I’d also use that term ‘together’ lightly, considering that we both are married to women, so we don’t get to be together as often as we like,” he responded, and helped Brian get situated.

“That’s nice. How do you do it?”

“It’s all about being sneaky,” Bruce said and then backed away at the same time Jack left the bathroom. Brian watched Jack momentarily, then closed his eyes.

Bruce—who had changed shortly after Brian took a shower—walked over to the bed and laid down. Jack was already getting situated into bed when he joined him. “You’re going to have to get up early so you can go to your room,” Bruce whispered as he cuddled up next to him.

“I will,” Jack whispered, “will you also tell me who that is sleeping on the couch?”

Bruce hummed in response. “It’s a long story.”

“Seems like it,” Jack replied, and then buried his face against Bruce’s neck. “I’m guessing you’ll give me that ‘gift’ for becoming champion later then eh?”

“Yes, don’t worry, you’ll get it,” Bruce chuckled, draping an arm over Jack. He felt Jack smile, and they slowly drifted off to sleep. Bruce’s mind briefly fell to Brian and he was suddenly awake again. He was worried about him, and he knew that deep down he was worried about himself and Jack too. If it could happen to Brian, it could happen to them too.

He fell into a restless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired and this probably has a couple mistakes but oh well no one's gonna read it anyways so no big deal.


End file.
